


Scar Tissue

by faithfulpenelope



Category: The X-Files
Genre: M/M, Morning After
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-03
Updated: 2016-03-03
Packaged: 2018-05-24 10:54:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6151288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/faithfulpenelope/pseuds/faithfulpenelope
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John can't believe that Walter would ever think his scars aren't sexy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Scar Tissue

It's insane, to John, that Walter should think anyone wouldn't be attracted to him. The man is built better than most men half his age, and John tells him so. Skinner rolls his eyes.

"I don't know, John. Sometimes I just feel like a bunch of scars."

"Scars are sexy," John teases. This time, Skinner outright scoffs. "They are! They tell a story. Your story."

"That I don't know how to duck?"

It's John's turn to roll his eyes. "Right, that's where they all came from." A idea dawns. "Lay down."

An eyebrow quirks up. "John, you gonna have to give me a little more time than that."

"No, not that." John pauses. "Not right now, at least." He pushes Skinner down until he's flat on the bed. Pauses to take in the sight before him. Walter Skinner, naked except for his briefs, laying in his bed like it was built just to showcase him.

"Earth to John."

"Sorry," Doggett says, not sorry at all. He climbs on the bed next to him, stretching out beside him. "You're gonna tell me where your scars come from."

"I am, am I," Skinner says wryly.

"You are. We'll start with an easy one. This one, I know." John traces the thin line across the left side of Walter's forehead. "Billy Miles. You were trying to get Scully and her baby to safety."

"We all were," Skinner deflects.

"We all didn't end up almost bleeding out in a Hoover elevator," John points out, and presses a soft kiss to the scar. Skinner's lip curls into a faint, shy smile. "Next. Bridge of your nose." The scar is usually hidden by the bridge of Walter's glasses. John had noticed it one day when Skinner took off his glasses to rub his eyes as Mulder ranted about something particularly insane.

"Are we really going to do this?"

John just looks at him expectantly. Skinner sighs.

"That came with a broken nose, courtesy of one of Mulder's informants. He called the guy Mr. X." He glares at John as he laughs. "What's so funny?"

"Nothing," John says quickly. "But you have to admit it's pretty spectacular you got a scar from a guy who goes by Mr. X."

Walter grunts. "Went by Mr. X. And it was a pretty spectacular fight. We busted up the elevator in Mulder's apartment building but good."

"So why were you fighting him, and not Mulder?"

"Mulder had disappeared, on a tip from X. Scully asked me for help getting the information out of him. I'd say she wasn't asking me to fight him but really, there was no other way it was going to happen."

"Because they knew you'd never not help them," John replies, and kisses the bridge of Walter's nose. Skinner's eyelashes flutter for a moment, and he looks almost embarrassed.

"There were times when I could have done a lot more. When I was more concerned about my own well-being than the truth."

John scoffs, but chooses to ignore the comment for now, focusing instead on tracing the barely-there line that starts at Skinner's sternum and continues down his chest, to where it dips off to his left hip and becomes a thicker patch of scar tissue. He rests his chin on Skinner's shoulder and rubs his fingers against the scar, smirking the tiniest bit when Skinner's breath hitches a little. John can tell by the jagged edges of the scar that it's a war time injury, and old. "Vietnam?" he guesses.

Skinner nods.

"Bad?"

"The first time they ever declared me dead," Skinner says. The words are dry but there's a shadow of pain behind them.

"Tell me," John encourages him.

"Ambush by the Vietcong during a routine patrol. Took out every single one of us. I…I have a memory, of the enemy soldiers stripping me down, taking my gun. Almost like I was…looking down on my body. There was a woman there, watching me watching myself die, my guts all over the jungle floor. For a long time, I felt like she saved me." He paused. "I used to dream of her. When Sharon got in her accident…" His voice trailed off and he shook his head. "Anyway. That's a whole different story."

For a second John considers pushing but decides against it. Skinner can tell him another day. "So you're in the jungle?"

"So I'm in the jungle. The medics didn't get there until morning, and by then all they could do is put us all in body bags. Except…two weeks later, I'm waking up in a Saigon hospital. I don't know what happened. I just always assumed I moved, moaned, something, and someone realized I wasn't quite done for yet."

"But everyone else was."

"Yeah." Skinner swallows hard. "Everyone but me."

"It wasn't your fault," John says quietly. "Trust me, I know."

Skinner's hand comes up and skims over Doggett's back, coming to rest on his ribs. "Beirut?"

"Yeah. I mean, not as bad. But when the bombs hit the barracks the wreckage took out the guy to the left and the guy to the right and the guy across the aisle and damned if I don't still wonder what the hell made me so special that it didn't get me." He leans into Skinner's touch as the warm hand glides up his side. "I guess we all ask ourselves that question."

Skinner quietly hums his agreement.

"But…whatever the reason may be, I'm sure glad how it turned out." John leans up and slides over until he's covering Walter's body with his own, and starts to kiss a line down the scar, gentle, open-mouthed kisses that make Skinner's breath really hitch and his back arch under John. A warm hand slides through John's hair and comes to rest at the base of his neck with a gentle squeeze and John looks up to see Walter looking back down through half-closed eyes, face full of want but willing to be patient, to let John finish his journey. John smiles and places one last kiss on the left hip before turning his attention to the right side, to what is very clearly a bullet hole. He doesn't even have to ask.

"Luis Cardinal."

The name seems familiar and Doggett searches his memory banks to try and place it. "Hired gun?"

Skinner nods. "Sent by the cancer man to Scully's apartment to kill her, but her sister walked in instead, and he shot Melissa by accident. Scully found her on the floor."

"Jesus," Doggett breathes. "But what does that have to do with you?"

"Somebody – cancer man, the syndicate, I don't know – forced the FBI to shut down the investigation. I told Scully the case was closed but I kept looking. Cardinal was sent to get me to stop. When the first shot didn't kill me, he tried to end me in the ambulance while they were transferring me from Mercy to Bethesda." Skinner grinned. "He got an ass kicking from Scully instead."

Doggett shook his head. "Shot trying to find justice for Scully's sister. Tell me again how self-serving and unwilling to help you are."

Skinner frowned. "It's not…it's complicated, John."

"I'm beginning to think 'it's complicated' is Walter Skinner code for 'I'm too bashful to acknowledge my own awesomeness'," John teases. When Skinner protests, he cuts him off with a kiss to the bullet wound, sucking on the tender spot until it pinks up, then soothing it with his tongue. Skinner's hips roll and John feels more than hears the quiet, " _Jesus, John_ ," from above.

"Are we…are you almost done with your tour?" Skinner's voice is strained. "Because, uh, I'm starting to get kind of distracted."

John chuckles. "I can tell from the view," he deadpans, and ducks his head to avoid Skinner's swat. He quick places a kiss on the right hip then slides down, ignoring Skinner's frustrated noise as he bypasses his groin in favor of his left thigh. He turns Walter's knee out slightly to reveal the newer scar just to the inside of the thigh, the one he discovered during their activities the night before.

Skinner immediately stills above him, and sighs.

"Hoping I didn't notice this one?"

"Kind of," Skinner allows, before taking a deep breath. He lifts up his knee, knocking John's hand off his leg. "Alex Krycek."

John goes to push Walter's leg back down but something in the older man's eye makes him reconsider, so he puts down his hand and just waits instead.

"The first time he infected me with the nanotechnology. The second time I've been declared dead. They couldn't figure out what was clotting my blood and tried to put a camera through a stint in my femoral artery to see what was going on. It didn't work, but it left me with a nice reminder." Skinner's arm comes up and covers his eyes, like he can't bear to look at John as he says the words. "Of what he could do to me whenever it struck his fancy."

"Hey." John reaches up and pulls Skinner's arm down. Skinner lets him but turns his head to the side to look at some empty spot on the wall. "No, look at me." He grabs Skinner's chin and shakes. "I said look at me, Walter."

Skinner smacks his hand away. "Don't, John. Leave it alone."

"I won't."

Skinner growls, "I said, leave it alone."

"And I said, I won't," John snaps back. "Not when you're so ashamed you can't even look me in the eye, over something that was done to you, that you had no control over and have no reason to be ashamed of."

"I'm not -" Skinner starts to say, but closes his mouth when he sees it's useless to lie. "You don't understand, John. You can't. What it's like to have someone force you to be at their beck and call." He gives a rueful laugh. "Although, at least this time, I can say I was forced into. Unlike -"

His voice catches when he realizes what he's said.

John tries to keep the shock off his face but it's hard when he's this close. "Unlike…unlike what, Walter?"

Skinner shakes his head, and then John's rolling off to the cold side of the bed as Walter stands and stalks away. "Walter, don't walk away from this," he demands. "Tell me."

"I haven't told you enough today?" Walter barks. "Jesus, John, what more do you want?"

"I want to know why you think so little of yourself, after all you've done. For your unit, for the FBI, for the X-Files. For Mulder, and Scully, and me."

"John, please." Walter presses the heels of his hands to his eyes.

"What are you so afraid of? That I'm going to run?" Skinner doesn't answer but his head tilts just slightly. "Walter, do you think I ever would have started this, ever would have come to your door, if I for a second thought you were anything less than a good and righteous man?" He stood and crossed the room, stopping in front of Walter to pull his hands down. "Walter, you can tell me."

Skinner's eyes are squeezed shut and for a long few moments there's silence.

"I made a deal." The words are barely a whisper. "With the cancer man."

Doggett swallows hard, his heart pounding. He tries to keep his voice from shaking. "What kind of deal?"

"To do his bidding. Mostly…mostly clean-up. Of evidence." Skinner's head drops down. "Of people."

"You killed for him?" The question was out before he could stop it.

"No," Skinner says immediately, and John knows he's telling the truth. "No. It was…disposal. Of the aftermath."

Doggett lets out the breath he didn't know he was holding. "Okay. Okay." He breathes in deep and tries to clear his head. Skinner just stands still, the shame palpable. "Walter, why?"

"Because he told Mulder he could cure her."

"Cure her -" It dawns on Doggett suddenly. "Scully's cancer."

Skinner nods, miserable. "He came to Mulder first, offered him the deal. I told Mulder not to do it. I didn't listen to my own advice."

"You sacrificed yourself to protect him. To save her. No, don't shake your head at me."

"John -"

"Is Scully alive?"

Skinner's head snapped up. "What?"

"Is Scully alive?"

"Yes."

"Because of what you did."

"No!" Skinner shook his hands loose from John's grip. "God, John, you weren't there, you don't know. The cure was a fake. He saw me for the fool I was and used me to do his bidding, to break the law, to cover up his sins. And I went along with it."

John can't help it, he loses it. "Goddamn it, Walter, would you fucking listen to yourself? You put your career, your reputation, your life on the line because you believed it would save one of your agents. It didn't work out exactly like you thought, but that agent? She's alive, and cancer-free, and still fucking kicking ass, and if you don't think that's at least a little because of you..." He gives a little laugh. "And the best part is, that's just one time. How many other times have you put yourself in danger for them? For the Bureau? The scars are visible reminders but for every one of them, I can bet there's ten stories that didn't leave a permanent mark." He can feel Skinner practically vibrating with tension as he wraps his arms around him and buries his face in his neck. "Walter, how can you not see how brave you are?"

He doesn't get an answer immediately, aside from Skinner's arms around him so tight he almost can't breathe, but then there's a noise that sounds almost like a sob, like something breaking, and Walter whispers, "thank you."

It's all John needs to hear as he pulls back and kisses him. Skinner responds immediately, pushing John up against the wall, and John knows Walter is pouring everything he can't say in his kiss. He lets Skinner take control, knowing he needs it after the reaction John has forced out of him. When Skinner breaks off, his face is flushed and his voice is low and rough.

"I need you, John. Now."

John's knees buckle a little. "Yeah. I mean, yes. Fuck, yes."

Skinner chuckles. "Eloquent."

"Hey, you try being eloquent when someone talks to you like - oh, God," John gasps as Skinner bites down on the curve of his neck. "No fair, playing dirty."

"I thought you liked dirty," Skinner growls, and damned if John doesn't just almost drop right there. And from the smug look on his face, Skinner knows it.

Well then, John thinks. Two can play at this game. He grins and shoves Skinner, hard, back on to the bed. Hooks his fingers in Skinner's briefs and yanks them off in one fluid motion.

"Hey!"

"I got interrupted," John says smoothly, crawling onto the bed above Walter. "I never finished my tour."

"Fuck the tour, John," Skinner snaps, and reaches for him. Doggett stops him with a hand to the chest and shoves him back down on the bed.

"It's almost done. I just missed one thing." Doggett sits back on his heels between Skinner's legs and runs his hand up the left leg, coming to stop right below the scar. Glances up at Skinner, who gives the slightest nod.

John grins and pushes the knee under his hand down, exposing Skinner's inner thigh. He skims his fingers up over the scar with just the lightest touch.

Skinner grits his teeth.

His fingers continue up, a little higher, almost to the crease between the thigh and the groin, and John leans down to kiss the scar. Follows his kisses with a soft lick up the length of it. The muscle tenses under his mouth as Skinner struggles to maintain control.

But John doesn't want him to maintain control. John wants him to let go. So he leans down again and bites, hard, just shy of painful, and damned if Skinner doesn't buck his hips and howl. So John does it again.

"Shit, John, what are you -" Skinner loses his words mid sentence as John's hand slides up to grasp Walter's erection. His head slams the pillow and he moans, something that isn't intelligible but may at one point have been John's name.

John bites ago, a little higher, then laps at it with his tongue. Strokes up and down with a firm grip.

"John," Walter whimpers. His hands are in John's hair, on his shoulders. "John, come here."

Doggett slides up and Walter grabs his neck, pulling him down for a bruising kiss. Walter's mouth opens to John's tongue, his hands grabbing at John's back. John quickens his movements and Walter bites his lip to try and stifle the groan. John laps up the tiny drop of blood that wells up.

"John."

"Come on, baby." John barely recognizes his own voice. "Let go for me. I'll catch you." He kisses Walter, a quick, dirty kiss. "I want you to come for me, Walter."

The hand on his ribcage squeezes, hard enough to bruise, and Walter's head snaps back with a groan as a rush of warm fluid comes over John's hand. John presses kisses to Walter's mouth, cheeks, and whispers soft encouragements to him as Walter comes back to himself.

"Fuck, John," Walter breathes when he's finally able to speak. "I - just - fuck."

"Eloquent," John teases, and easily dodges Skinner's weak pinch to his side.

"What about - " Skinner reaches down.

"I, uh..." He gives a _what can you do?_ shrug. "Well, it kind of took care of itself." Peels off his now-wet boxers and flings them to the side.

Skinner's eyebrow quirks up, and he laughs, an actual deep belly laugh, and John grins.

"God, John." Skinner looks at him with such emotion that John can't believe this is the same man sitting in a fourth-floor office all day long, signing off an expense reports. "I - I don't know what to say except thank you, I guess." When John's grin becomes lascivious, he cuffs his ear. "For what you said, John." He strokes the ear he just cuffed. "For believing in me."

"Believing in you is easy, Walter," John says, and dips down for a kiss. Walter happily obliges. "It's getting you to believe in yourself that's the hard part."

"It's getting easier with you around," Walter whispers, and John's heart tightens up in an oddly pleasant way.

"Good. And will you admit I was also right about one more thing?"

Walter glares at him in mock seriousness. "And what's that?"

John grins. "That your scars really are sexy."


End file.
